


Even Conduits Catch Colds

by umbrellaz



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, inFAMOUS: Second Son
Genre: Fluff, Its only one line tho, M/M, Sickfic, conduits dont have great immune systems when theyre fighting, discussions of a past coma, hand holding with your bro, healthy amounts of soup, implied friends with benefits arrangement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 11:37:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17786645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umbrellaz/pseuds/umbrellaz
Summary: Unbeknownst to Delsin, conduit powers seem to weaken the immune system when fast healing. A cold may just be a conduits greatest enemy. Or maybe not if you have a friend like Desmond.





	Even Conduits Catch Colds

Last Delsin remembered, he’d been taking out drones in the lantern district, and encountered a group of D.U.P. who’d taken over a community center. They’d been using it to house and process suspected conduits, and dismantling that operation took precedence over drone whacking. So he’s a confused to say the least when he wakes up in Desmond’s room, in Desmond’s bed, covered in blankets and feeling a persistent itch in his hand, with both his friend and a very surly looking older brother staring down at him.

The itch in the back of his hand is revealed to be an IV that somehow became embedded there. Which is weird, since he’s pretty certain Des doesn’t live or work in a hospital. Then again he doesn’t know a lot about the guy still.

Coming to consciousness is bad enough. Delsin’s head is pounding, his eyes are watery and his throat feels like it's full of the smoke that’s normally in his fingers.

“Del?” Desmond waves a hand in front of his face. “You awake?”

He ought to respond, but breathing suddenly isn’t as easy as it should be.

He tries to let out some form of a greeting but ‘Good morning’ comes out as a raspy squeak and sends him into a coughing fit.

Reggie has that look on his face that’s half genuine brotherly concern and half “how the hell did you do this to yourself” when he pats his shaking shoulders. Desmond is watching him with his eyebrows drawn together and he looks more distressed every time Delsin coughs.

For a few moments, he can’t get past thinking about those expressive eyebrows.

Finally, he rasps out, “I feel like I got hit by a train.”

Reggie scowls at him like he’s just stated that water is wet.

“Did I get hit by a train?”

“ _No_.”

“You passed out after picking a fight with a D.U.P. patrol last night.” Desmond explains.  
“Reggie brought you here. You were running a temperature.”

That explained the soreness, though normally Delsin’s speedy conduit healing should have dealt with that by now.

But didn’t he normally run hot when he was using his powers?

He experimentally tries to summon some smoke, that pathetically sparks with the strength of a match fizzling out under a faucet, barely able to cover his palm.

“Well, fuck.” Delsin mutters.

“Has this happened before?” Desmond asks, looking between him and Reggie.

“No?” Delsin offers honestly. “I’m still pretty new to uh- everything.”

“So- what? He’s got a cold? Do Conduits just get sick as like a side effect or something?” Reggie says, doing that fidget with his legs he does when he wants to pace and rant but can’t because he’s in polite company.

“That might be a possibility.”

A blonde man with glasses and a glower to rival Reggie’s pushes through the door to the small room.  
“You should consider yourself lucky it’s not anything more serious. My current understanding is that conduit’s immune systems are somewhat compromised in order to deal with fast healing and the strain it has on the body.” He pushes his glasses up onto his nose. “A mild infection is probably the best case scenario.”

Would have been nice to know that earlier.

“Infection?!” Reggie splutters twisting his face in anger and exasperation. Delsin shrugs helplessly at his brother. How was he supposed to know the side effects of conduit powers?

The angry blonde man is aiming an equally scathing glare at Desmond, one that he appears to be pointedly ignoring.

“We’re going to talk about this. _Later_.” He promises, jabbing a finger in Desmond’s direction.

Normally Delsin would be inclined to ask him what his damage was but his head feels like it’s filled with cotton at the moment and the yelling and whispering all around him isn’t helping; at all.

Reggie watches the blonde man leave and begins frantically saying something to Desmond, what it is Delsin can’t tell as his ears have started to ring and his head pounds with every distressed tone shift in Reggie’s voice.

Desmond speaks much quieter though firmer as much as he can tell, and the two of them appear to want his attention, with Desmond lightly tapping his hand from his place on the bed.

What Delsin really wants is to sleep for at least a year in Desmond’s bed. He feels like he’s run a hundred miles over hot coals, and after blinking a few times, his eyelids are just too heavy to open again.

oOo

Waking up for the second time still sucks but at least there’s no one yelling at him.

The IV has been removed, though a bag of mystery liquid still hangs above him, balancing crudely on a nearby shelf. There’s more medical looking equipment around, piles of pill bottles, syringes and some tools Delsin isn’t sure he wants to know the use for.

Reggie is also gone from the room.

Whatever fluids he’d been receiving earlier appear to be keeping him from panicking about that for the moment, staring up at the ceiling as his eyes start to water again. In one night Delsin has gone from handsome local vigilante, to a sweaty mess in his friend with newfound benefits’ bed. And not in the good way.

As if on queue, Desmond pushes the door open, carrying two plastic pharmacy bags in each hand. He catches Delsin’s bewildered and exhausted gaze.

“Hey. You’re awake.”

“In spirit anyway.” Delsin grumbles hoarsely.

He watches Desmond set the bags down on a cooler in the corner of the room, and pause to fish through them, pulling out a small paper bag.

“Where’s Reggie?” Delsin asks. Reggie has always been the one to look after him on sick days since their parents died. It’s hard to ignore the lingering anxiety from his absence. Especially given the whole conduit thing going on at the moment.

Desmond turns back to face him. “The D.U.P. were starting to get too close. With your current-uh-condition he went to lay a false trail to keep them away so your ‘fast healing’ can do it’s thing. He was going to lay low at his motel room for the night and come back in the morning to check on you when the patrol rotations change.”

He seats himself just on the edge of the bed and looks Delsin over with a concerned frown.  
“How are you feeling?”  
Delsin sniffs. “You mean besides like shit?”  
“Besides like shit, yeah.”  
Delsin takes a minute to assess his physical condition, flexing his fingers and blinking up at the ceiling trying to get his vision to focus completely.

“My head hurts.” he says after a moment. “I’ve sweated enough to make the sheets gross in, like, a couple hours,- or how ever long I was asleep- but it’s like I’m trying to sleep in a freezer.”

Desmond’s frown deepens and he lifts his hand in Delsin’s direction, only to retract it, hesitating.

“Can I-?”

Delsin hums in dismissive approval of whatever Desmond is planning on doing, and lets out a sigh when the back of his hand settles on the conduit’s forehead, checking his temperature.

Desmond’s hand is warm, and Delsin is very, very tempted to just pull him into bed and leech off his heat, if it wasn't for the lingering ache in his muscles.

With his eyes half lidded he can just stare into Desmond’s deep golden brown gaze as long as he wants. Right here this is perfect, and man, Delsin really wants to sleep-

Before a blissful slumber can claim him, Desmond pulls his hand away. And for the first time, this close, Delsin notices the worrying on his lower lip, and dark bags under his eyes.

Desmond shudders a sigh.

“Well you’ve got a fever alright.”

The reality of the situation almost makes Delsin laugh out loud. A conduit, who had just yesterday been jumping around buildings and getting shot at, rendered useless by what is essentially a bad cold.

“You never hear about this in the comics.” He says, his laughter muffled by his sore throat.

“What?” Desmond shoots him an incredulous look.

 

“You never hear about Superman or Batman having sick days.”

Desmond snorts. “Well, one’s an alien, and the other has health insurance.”

“Damn. I’ve got neither of those things going for me.” The conduit quips, cracking a smile.

Desmond laughs, a warm full laugh, that makes Delsin want to come up with another joke so he can hear it again. To see him grin with that light in his eyes, but also to distract himself from the fact that conduits do still get sick, despite everything.

He genuinely doesn’t have time to be sick. With Augustine still holding the city in her literal stone grip, he needs to be out there.

People- his people, need him.

Delsin loses his train of thought as his body very abruptly reminds him that he’s running a fever and can’t maintain a healthy temperature right now, sending a violent shiver up his body. Desmond looks pretty worried when he groans softly in his discomfort.

“This sucks.” Delsin says through his stuffed nose as Desmond pulls the blankets further up around him.

“Yeah, I’m sure it does. Hold on.”

Returning to the pile of plastic bags sitting on the table, Desmond rifles through them and pulls out some small packets, then walks over to a cabinet and pulls out a pill bottle.

“What’s that?” Delsin asks when he’s offered two of said pills, along with a glass of water.

“Antibiotics. They should help out with your symptoms until your fast healing can kick in.”

 

“And you just have those lying around? And what about that?” Delsin points to the IV balancing on the shelf. “Are you and that blonde guy smuggling this stuff? Or are you just waiting around for conduits to catch colds?”

 

He pauses for an answer, pills and glass in hand, watching Desmond’s face go stony and silent.

“I’m not complaining or anything, like if you guys are just here to help people out I’m grateful since this city really could use it. I just know this conduit who has this thing about drug dealers and she's-”

“It was for me.” Desmond says quietly, refusing to meet Delsin’s eyes.

 

A tense pause follows, and before Delsin can shut his mouth his brain spits out:

“What?”

 

“I, ...-God how do I put this."

Desmond has drifted away from the conduit a little though he’s still sitting on the bed. His fingers keep clenching and unclenching as he sits rigidly straight up. Delsin doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until Desmond inhales deeply, collecting himself.

“I was in a coma.”

Anything Delsin was going to guess dies on his tongue.

“I was being transported halfway around the world at the time so all this-” He gestures at the various medical supplies littering the small room. “It was all for keeping me going while I was out.”

Desmond says this as if it’s somehow casual conversation, but Delsin heard something fragile, uncomfortable in his tone.

“Jesus.” he croaks.

“It’s fine.” Desmond says with a stiff wave of his hand. “I’m up and about now aren’t I?”

It’s not fine. What about any of that sounds fine? Unless the reason he became comatose was he fell out of a tree trying to rescue someone’s cat or something. Brain damage to the point of a coma was serious, he knew that pretty well.

There’s still a lot Delsin wants to know about him, though he’s unsure of where to start, or what can actually be answered. And given how Desmond is trying to avoid looking at him, it’s highly unlikely he wants to talk about it much.

After a beat he starts to say: “Woah. That sounds pretty serious. Do you wanna talk about it?”

 

He’s unfortunately stopped at the very first syllable. He can feel the fluid clogging his sinuses dripping down the back of his throat and it’s _disgusting_ , coughing raggedly into his sleeve.

He tries to show Desmond that he’s still listening, staring at him while he coughs into his elbow, but within seconds his eyes are watering so much that has has to close them anyway.

“Alright- Come on, let’s take those meds, and then sleep this off, okay?” Desmond says gently, prying the pills from his sweaty hand and pointedly shifting the glass of water in his direction.

Delsin agrees with that plan. But he still wants to ask Desmond about his coma, and possibly the circumstances around said coma, if it was a subject he was comfortable with.

Obediently he waters down the pills and settles back against the pillows. When he remembers one more thing he wanted to ask.

“Who was the grouchy blonde guy?”

“That’s Shaun. Don’t worry about him, he just gets grumpy when things don’t go exactly according to plan.”

“Mhm. Sounds like Reg sometimes.”

Desmond shrugs, his form beginning to blur a bit as Delsin’s eyes droop. He just told him something serious about himself, which is new. It would be considerate to be awake so they can talk about it. His friend is watching him, with the corners of his mouth pinched slightly in worry.

What Delsin wants to say is: “That must have been rough. Thank you for trusting me with this. I’m sorry that whatever conduit illness I have is making me fall asleep because I really want to listen, and help if I can."

Instead his burning throat and fever-addled brain push him to gently take Desmond’s hand in his and gives it a squeeze.  
Desmond’s eyes widen at the gesture, but he doesn’t pull away. His gaze is stuck on their joined hands for a minute before asking:

 

“Do you want to nap again for a bit? I’ll wake you up when it’s time for more meds.”

All Delsin can do is give him a small grunt of affirmation before his eyes shut again, and he slips into darkness.

Ooo

When Delsin was younger, just a little after his parents died, he caught pneumonia.

He’d passed out at school, spilling his lunch tray all over himself in the process. The school called Reggie, and his brother showed up in his gaudy burger joint uniform to take him home in their crappy little car.

Reggie got him settled, checked his temperature and administered what cold medicine they had. His hands shook when he tucked Delsin into bed, frantically calling Betty, making a cold compress for him as she instructed. His manager called him up, demanding he return to his shift, but was promptly hung up on.

Then, Reggie slipped quietly through the door, scrubbing at his eyes. His face was wet. He threw his uniform hat off into the wastebasket, breathed a long sigh, and sat next to Delsin on the edge of the bed.

“Okay, Del.” He started softly. “You’re gonna be fine, alright?”

Delsin nodded slowly. His brother smiled at him fondly. He returned it, feeling a little warmer despite the tightness in his chest at the greys in Reggie’s hair.

Reggie got up to put on a movie while they waited for Betty to get off her shift at the cannery. He came back from the kitchen with two steaming bowls of chicken noodle soup, a warm comfort against the burning pain in Delsin’s throat. The two of them stayed there, Reggie gently stroking back his hair, the sounds from the tv lulling Delsin off to sleep.

The memory dissolves as soon as Delsin begins to blink awake, face stinging from his drying tears. The feeling coming back into his body starts where Desmond is gently shaking his shoulder. His golden brown eyes are filled with worry, his mouth is just slightly parted, with the long scar jutting through the left side. Delsin’s heartbeat picks up as Desmond’s hand moves to the side of his face, sweeping away the hair falling into his eyes with the gentlest touch.

“You okay? You were-” he trails off, as Delsin hastily starts to wipe his eyes. He moves his hand off the other’s face as he tries to sit up, but keeps it close to Delsin’s own hand still laying curled on the sheet.

“Yeah.” Delsin says, mortified at the pathetic sound of his voice. He has to cough again before he can continue. He settles back against the pillows-not the ones he knows from home- and takes a moment to come back into reality. His friend’s face is pinched with concern.

“Did you get to sleep? Or-”

“Yeah, I did I just-” Delsin pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to will his sinuses into clearing up. “Just a dream-or a memory really. It’s stupid-being sick and all. Fever dreams, throwing stuff I don’t wanna think about at me.”

Desmond sighs deeply, sounding exhausted. “Yeah, I get you. Those are never fun.”

There’s a somber pause as Delsin wallows in the lingering emotions from the memory. He feels ashamed which is embarrassing and awful because it’s not Desmond’s fault and Reggie’s never told Delsin that he blames him for everything that happened to them- Everything he’s had to sacrifice.

“Anything I can do?” Desmond asks, breaking the silence. After a beat he continues: “If you need a minute I can go for a bit?”

 

“ _No_.” Delsin says, a little sharper than he intended to sound. The last thing he wants right now is to be left alone. He’s so tired, of being sick, sick of being a burden-

“Okay.”  
A warm weight settles over the hand he left resting at his side, Desmond gently giving his fingers a squeeze.  
“I’ll stay right here then.” Desmond says a small smile pinching at the corners of his eyes.

His soft gaze is making Delsin’s heart pound as fast as he shakes his aerosol cans, but he returns a smile, hating the whole being sick thing even more intensely because he’d love to thank Desmond for his bedside manner with a kiss or five-

The moment is broken with a loud growl from the conduit’s stomach that makes them both freeze. Desmond snorts and says “Have you eaten anything since you came down with this?”

 

Delsin laughs. “Come to think of it, I probably haven’t.”

 

“Give me a sec, I’m prepared for hungry conduits.” Desmond leaves the room, and returns a few moments later with two bowls, and places them down on the bedside table. He sticks a spoon in  
one and hands it to Delsin.

“I hope you don’t mind chicken noodle.”

 

“No- no man, this is great.”

The bowl fills Delsin’s palms with warmth when he settles it into his lap. What little of it he can smell with his stuffed nose is savory and comforting.

 

“Careful, it’s hot.” Desmond says, so he blows on the spoonful a few times before putting it in his mouth.  
After a few mouthfuls, Delsin mentally kicks himself and remembers what he should’ve said earlier.

“Hey Des?”

“Yeah?” Desmond says, blowing on his soup from the rim of his bowl.

 

“Thank you- seriously. For this.”

Desmond flushes and shrugs one shoulder. “It’s no problem. It was my turn to make dinner anyway.” He pauses to drink some more broth from his bowl. “Besides it’d really suck if Seattle’s liberator succumbed to a common cold.”

Delsin laughs, but then snaps to look back to his soup.

“Wait, you made this?”  
Desmond nods.

“Cooking, wall climbing, stabbing; Is there anything you don’t do?”

 

“I don’t shoot smoke out of my hands.” Desmond says with a smirk.

The conduit huffs a laugh, and the two finish their bowls as rain begins to patter against the windowpane.

**Author's Note:**

> so this is my first fic that I've ever posted so it's probably not that great but these two give me life so I hope you all like it! I'm bad at finishing stuff so this is my attempt to just post something and have a finished fic out there. There will hopefully be more to come cuz this pairing is wholesome and i love these two hero bisexuals sakjfdkjfkgfk anyway thanks for reading


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